It Always Comes Back To You
by howtobenerdy
Summary: A dumping ground for all of my SoMa one-shots with the occasional non-SoMa stories (that, truthfully, are also SoMa stories). AUs and SE-verse. Prepare for fluff, fluff, and more fluff!
1. A Cold Day

**Hey guys! This is my first ever Soul Eater fic, and I assure you there will be more. I already have a much longer one in the works.**

 **This is also the first writing thing I posted on tumblr, so it would really mean a lot if you could show your support there too and maybe like and/or reblog? Fanfic isn't letting me post the link, but if you go to my profile you can find my tumblr username and writing tag.**

 **Thank you so much!**

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On the coldest day ever to hit Death City, Maka and Soul's heater decided to break down.

Maka had layered her regular pyjamas with one of Soul's sweaters that she'd found lying around and cocooned herself in her own blanket. As she lay in bed, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, her mind continued to return to an unusual moment earlier that day.

She and Soul had just come back from a successful mission and they were both and giddy with the excitement of working regularly again. Since they had defeated Asura just over six months ago, things at the Academy had been slow. There were still regular classes, but time that would have normally been dedicated to going on missions had been taken over by helping clean up the city that had suffered terrible damages.

Though the battle with Asura seemed like ages ago, every time Maka went outside, she found a reminder of the terror and suffering that the city and its inhabitants had endured. Whether it was scaffolding on buildings that held up crumbling rooftops, or debris lying in deserted alleyways, or even the broken basketball net at the park that no one had bothered to fix yet, it made no difference. All of it sent shivers up Maka's spine.

The welcome escape from the city, even if it was just for a few days to some desolate little village in the middle of no where, left Maka feeling refreshed and clear-minded for the first time in a long time. Soul seemed happier too, more at ease, more like his usual self. Seeing a familiar smirk returned to her weapon's face made her chest swell with happiness.

To any onlookers, most of their conversation as they made their way back to the DWMA would have made them appear like a couple of completely regular, average, every day teenagers, discussing ordering in pizza for dinner that night, and debating over which movie to watch. The thought of them being ordinary caused an amused smile to spread across Maka's face. She was on top of the world, and not even the cold air and slicing gusts of wind that threatened to blow them away could disrupt her mood.

"Man, I haven't eaten a good soul in too long," Soul said, sighing contentedly and stretching his arms above his head. As they walked up the stairs to the school, their arms brushing against one another, making her skin tingle lightly.

Soul slipped his hand into hers, holding it gently. His hand was warm. Maka looked down at their intertwining fingers in a sort of trance. It wasn't like they hadn't held hands before, but this felt different somehow. It was more tender and tentative, without the usual intensity that they had when about to leap into battle or reuniting after a near-death situation. They weren't hurrying somewhere, trying to pull the other after them, or about to fight any kishin eggs. It was so _normal_.

"Maka, I-" Soul started, slowing his pace until he stopped right before the threshold to the Academy. Her eyes snapped up to look at him. She frowned and tilted her head, concerned.

"What's wrong?" she inquired worriedly. Soul glanced up at her with intense red eyes that made an electric pulse run through her body. She tried to think if that had always happened when he looked at her, but she couldn't recall.

Soul pursed his lips, then shook his head slightly. "Ah, forget it," he mumbled.

"What is it? You can tell me," Maka insisted, squeezing his hand. He scuffed his shoe against the ground.

"Do you ever wonder if things would be different if I wasn't your weapon partner?" he asked finally. Maka was extremely surprised by his question. She felt a small fluttering in her stomach, but she ignored it.

"Different how?"

Soul opened his mouth to say something, but then sighed and shook his head again. "Never mind." He released her hand and all of a sudden, her palm felt cold.

"Soul, tell me!" she said, more demandingly. He ignored her and started walking again. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" he asked indignantly.

"Don't just walk away and ignore me!" she snapped.

"Just drop it, Maka, will you?" he yelled back over his shoulder. She jogged to catch up with him and tried to put a hand on her shoulder. He brushed her off.

"God, Soul, just tell me what's wrong already!" Maka exclaimed. Soul shot her a menacing growl, his eyes narrowing. "You know you don't scare me, Soul," she muttered. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and Maka crossed her arms over her chest as they kept walking, a silence and wide margin coming between them.

All that day, things were off between them. They were on edge, snapping at one another over every little misstep or sharp comment. At one point, when Soul accidentally dropped a plate while he was cleaning the dishes, they got into a full on screaming match that made Maka's throat go raw and her eyes sting with angry tears. She stormed out of the apartment and rushed off to find Tsubaki, then spent spent the rest of the evening ranting her frustrations. Tsubaki just sat back and smiled knowingly as she listened, which after a while began to really tick Maka off. She didn't like not knowing things, and Tsubaki was obviously aware of something she wasn't. When she stomped back into the newly freezer-like apartment, Soul and already turned in for the night, leaving a note on the kitchen counter saying the heater had stopped working again.

So that night, the only thing on Maka's mind other than how to not freeze her ass off was Soul. Soul and his stupid smug smile and annoyingly warm hands.

After an hour of restlessness, Maka swung her legs over her bed. Keeping her blanket wrapped around her tightly, she shuffled to Soul's door. She hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.

A few seconds later, the door swung open and Soul stood there, squinting at her groggily. She half expected him to snap at her. Instead, he scanned her up and down, taking in her attire, then turned back into his room, leaving the door open as an invitation for her to enter.

"You look like a burrito," he remarked, flopping back down on his bed.

"It's cold," Maka retorted defensively.

"C'mere," he mumbled, lifting up his comforter and scooting to one side of the bed. Without thinking, she layered her blanket on top of his and crawled between the sheets beside him. He had left an imprint with his body heat that lasted all too short for Maka's liking. Soul rolled over to face her, his face only inches from hers.

"Did I wake you?" she asked tentatively.

"No. It's too cold to fall asleep," he sighed.

Maka paused for a moment, then spoke. "Sorry. For yelling."

"Yeah… me too."

Maka took a deep breath. She prepared to ask him about what he'd been talking about earlier when he asked if things would be different if they weren't partners when Soul calmly took her hand that was lying limp on the bed between them and laced his fingers in hers. Maka felt alarmed again, but did not pull away. She was grateful for the dark as it hid the redness in her cheeks.

"Soul, can I ask you something?" she said softly.

"Mhm," he hummed affirmatively. Maka fell short of words, suddenly overcome with an aching in her chest. All of a sudden, the only thing that mattered was being close to him, not the stupid fights, or the broken dish, not even his stupid question which had taken over her mind for the better part of eight hours.

Without saying a word, Maka untangled her fingers from his. She heard Soul let out an almost inaudible huff. She smiled slightly and scooted closer so her head was neatly tucked under his chin and her hands were resting loosely against his chest.

"Maka, what's up? Are you—" her weapon said, about to question her further, concern streaking his voice.

She shushed him. "I'm tired," she sighed. With a small laugh, Soul threw an arm over her and buried his face in her hair.

Maka fell asleep without any problems whatsoever, barely feeling the cold at all.

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 **Please review and tell me what you think!**


	2. All I Want is a Proper Cup of Coffee

**So, the prompt this was supposed to be based off of was a lot different than what it ended up being… but I like it anyway**

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Coffee# 1

Maka had always thought huge, big-name coffee chains were pretty ridiculous. Why pay five dollars for a coffee when she could make it herself in her new coffee pot for a fraction of the cost? Perhaps "new" wasn't the right word to describe it, but the man at the yard sale had called it "old but reliable", and when she bought it, his guarantee had been good enough for her…

" _Old but reliable" my ass_ , Maka thought begrudgingly as she walked into the overpriced DeathBucks establishment down the street from her apartment one afternoon after sadly watching the coffee pot make a wheezing noise and begin to spark. Normally, she would just buy coffee from the machine at the university, but the whole reason she had bought the damn garage-sale-coffee pot in the first place was because the machine had been removed.

She waited impatiently in the annoyingly long line up in front of the counter. She was grumpy and tired from attending her early lecture (she had the good fortune of being saddled with all morning classes), and she knew if she didn't get some caffeine in her she just might break down.

"Coffee. Black," Maka said before she'd even stepped right up to the counter. She hadn't bothered hiding the disgust in her voice or covering the scowl on her face, but her bitterness faltered she looked up at the barista. The very unique looking, _very_ _hot_ young man behind the counter raised a pale eyebrow.

"Bad day?" he asked.

Her words tumbled out of her before she could even think. "Well, yes, as a matter of fact. My coffee machine broke, so until I can buy a new one I have to get my coffee from a money guzzling store where the lines are way too long and… Are you the only one back there?" she asked in disbelief, peering around the cappuccino machine. "That's unbelievable! I have work to do!" She hadn't noticed how her volume had steadily been rising until she was all but screeching in the man's face.

"I'm sorry, Pigtails. I know the world normally revolves around you, but as the guy who has to work this shift by himself, I gotta say it's pretty damn uncool to yell at me over things _I can't do anything about_ ," he said coldly, his red eyes bearing into her like a drill. Maka gawked at him, severely taken aback. Sure, maybe she shouldn't have directed her anger at him, but he was still being an ass about it.

She slapped down five dollars on the counter, snatched her change from him, and stomped off to wait for her order, cracking open her book for some reading on genetic anomalies. A minute later, the young man's deep voice called out loudly "Pigtails. Your coffee."

Coffee #2

There were fewer people in line next day, but still, only the, white haired, annoyingly gorgeous guy was working.

"Pigtails," he regarded her dryly.

"I could get you fired, you know," she told him bitterly. "Black coffee."

He wrote "Pigtails" on her cup.

Coffee #4

"What are you always reading?" he asked, leaning across the counter.

"Books."

"What kind of books?"

She noticed his name tag for the first time, partially because since that first day, she hadn't let herself look right at him for too long. _Soul. Odd name._

"Books for school," she responded.

"What are you studying?" he asked.

Maka looked at him and pursed her lips. "Why are you so interested?" He shrugged. "Shouldn't you be filling orders?" Maka asked him.

"Kilik's got it," he said, gesturing to the other worker behind him. For the first time that she had been at the cafe, there was another person working behind the counter. He had greeted Maka with a good-natured "Hi, may I take your order?", which was a huge leap from Soul calling her _Pigtails_ , and passed the order off to Soul, who was on drink duty. _Maybe they realized he's too insociable to work the cash_ , Maka thought coldly, though she didn't entirely mean it.

Coffee #5

Maka opened her mouth to place her usual order, but Soul had already punched it into the register.

"Normally, I don't trust guys to order for me," Maka said. He smiled. He had sharp teeth, but Maka barely noticed them; she was too busy looking at his eyes. Although his lips were drawn back in an almost crude smirk, his eyes crinkled at the corners and filled with life. She paid, retrieved the steaming hot drink from Kilik, and sat down in her usual spot.

The red chair and small circular table she had claimed as her workspace was right beside a keyboard that sat untouched in the corner of the warm cafe and gave her a clear view of Soul as he moved around behind the counter.

Coffee #8

"Pigtails," he regarded her, nodding his head slightly. All traces of any negativity surrounding the name had vanished.

"Soul," she said, nodding back and fishing her money out of her wallet. Maka hoped she would still be able to afford her daily fix before the next week was over.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly. She looked up at him, confused, then realized that, thanks to his nickname for her, he'd never bothered to actually learn her name. She contemplated whether or not she should tell him.

"Maka," she said after a beat. He smiled. Maka turned away, hoping he hadn't seen the blush that had risen to her cheeks.

Coffee#13

In addition to her change, Soul handed Maka a red, plastic card with the DeathBucks logo on it and the words "We _love_ our loyal friends" written in gold cursive letters.

"What's this?" she asked, turning the card over in her hands.

"Rewards card. Employees can give them out to frequent customers," Soul responded. He was blushing, and so was Maka, but neither of them noticed the redness on the other's cheeks.

"Thanks, Soul."

"Hey, I work here too!" Liz, the other worker besides Kilik who seemed to share Soul's shift protested. Maka rolled her eyes slightly and thanked her, too.

Coffee #15

Maka was having trouble focusing. Her work load hadn't been too heavy lately, so she felt disinclined to power through it. Not to mention, she found herself constantly being distracted by the way's Soul's fingers drummed methodically on the counter as he took orders. She noticed how he would rake a hand through his hair when he was trying to figure out how to spell a customer's name, and how the scowl that rested on his face dropped for a split second when they made eye contact across the room.

When there was no line up, Maka pushed herself up from her chair and walked over to where Soul was leaning on the counter, looking bored as hell.

"Why do you always work this shift?" Maka asked. He blinked a few times, as if he couldn't fully register the question.

"Cause I'm always available this shift," he shrugged. "Why do you always come here during my shift?"

"Touché," Maka said approvingly.

They talked for a long time, only taking pauses whenever a new customer came in to order something until Maka left to meet Tsu.

Coffee #17

Maka had spoken too soon about having a light workload. Not three days had passed and she had been hit with three upcoming tests and a quiz, all scheduled over the same two days. She was so engulfed in her studying from the moment she sat down, Soul had to actually come out from behind the counter to set her coffee down on her table, causing her to look up at him.

"It was getting cold," he told her, peering at the papers and books that were crammed onto the small table in front of her. She noticed for the first time how tall he was.

"Thanks," she said, smiling gratefully. He shrugged and returned to his post.

Coffee#18

"How'd the first test go?" Soul asked.

"Ok, I think. I'll let you know when we get the marks back," Maka responded, holding out her money to him.

"I'm sure you did well. You were studying like crazy yesterday," he said assuringly. Maka's stomach did a flip-flop at his smiling eyes.

That day, she hung around longer than usual. A lot longer. Soul nearly spilt three different orders because he was so distracted by the adorable way Pigtails frowned when she had to double back and check something in her notes.

When his shift ended, Soul said good-bye to Liz, who had picked up a double shift for that day, and entered to the door marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY" to stow his red apron in his employee-issued-locker and grab his sweater and phone before his second job started up.

Maka was still there when sat down at the piano. He didn't notice her at first, and he was almost thankful for that, because he didn't think he could start playing with those gorgeous green eyes watching him.

When he finished playing his first song, and the music released its hold on him, he noticed her watching him. She had a dreamy, far away look on her face. When she realized he was looking back, she reddened and looked down at her books again. Why did she have to sit so close to the piano? More importantly, why did she have to be so _goddamned distracting?_

Coffee #19

"You play really well," Maka blurted out. Soul looked up at her, seeming somewhat dazed for a moment, then smiled a little.

"Thanks," he said, sliding her cup across the counter at her.

"Do you play every day?" she asked. She started shaking as she tried to fit the cap so it clicked softly on the lip of the cup.

"No," he said. "Just Monday, Thursday, and Saturday." He must have noticed her fidgety hands. "You okay, Pigtails? You look… kind of nervous," he remarked. She nodded and bit her lip.

"So, you get off at four normally, then?" she asked. He nodded, red eyes looking slightly unsure. Maka took a deep breath.

 _Just ask him_ , she thought. _Now, do it now. Don't just stand their with your mouth open. Say something!_

"Bye!" she squeaked out, then rushed out of the store entirely.

Coffee#20

After three days of avoiding every DeathBucks in the city and building up her courage, Maka walked into her usual cafe and slammed her hands down on the counter, making Soul look up in alarm.

"Uh, hey," he said, eyes wide. "Coffee?" He turned to pour the hot drink into one of the cardboard cups. Maka dropped her money on the counter. As she waited for her drink, hands busying themselves with the ends of her sleeves, she faintly heard Soul humming to himself. He pulled the cap off his sharpie and glanced back at Maka, his cheeks holding a pink tinge, then scribbled something down on the cup. When he turned back around and placed the coffee on the counter, Maka burst.

"Date. Today. You and me." Her words came out harsh and demanding. Her entire face was burning red. Soul stared at her and said nothing. After a few moments of silence, she deflated and stepped back. "Okay. Guess not. Sorry." No matter how hard she tried she couldn't string together a full sentence. "Bye."

She was halfway down the block when she heard a familiar voice calling down the street.

"HEY, MAKA!" she turned around to see Soul jogging after her, a cup in his hand. He reached her, a huge grin on his face, and held out the cup directly in front of her face. "You forgot your coffee." Maka stared at him for a moment, then looked at the cup. Written in thick black Sharpie was the word "Pigtails" with an arrow towards the opposite side of the cup. Hesitantly, Maka took the cup from him and turned it around to read "Date?"

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 **So, this was kinda silly but really fun to write. Let me know what you think!**


	3. Our Home

**So, a while back I got a PM from What2do with a suggestion for one of these. It took a while, and I may have deviated from the original idea, but I still need to credit this wonderful human for the inspiration. It was really interesting to write with Crona, as I really never have before. (It was also also just the tiniest bit frustrating because although I see Crona as gender neutral, from a grammatical standpoint, using they/them/their went against my writer-instincts).**

 **I'm not sure how well this fits in with the manga-verse, but in the anime-verse, I think it does.**

 **Alright, time to stop rambling (does anyone read these?) and just get to the story.**

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"Welcome to your new home, Crona!" Maka exclaimed gleefully, pushing the door to the small yet cozy apartment open. Crona shuffled into Soul and Maka's apartment, feeling too gangly, too uncomfortable, too unsure to be in such a put-together place, a _real_ home, one Crona certainly didn't belong in, or so they felt.

Soul walked past them in a huff, radiating a dark and brooding energy. Maka watched him go, a frown settling on her face. Ragnarok burst from Crona's back in a dark flash.

"What's _his_ deal?" Ragnarok wondered. Crona looked to Maka for answers, but her face was still drawn into an angry scowl. She took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring, then looked at Crona with a suddenly pleasant expression.

"Oh, he's just being Soul," Maka said, waving her hand dismissively. "C'mon, I'll show you your room."

As Maka turned her back to Crona, they couldn't help but wonder if his friends' anger was related to the conversation Crona had accidentally intruded upon when they met at the entrance to the Academy. After emerging from the building, he found the two arguing loudly, voices filled with spite. They caught on to the last of Maka's sentences, stopping in their tracks at sensing the hostile nature of the conversation.

"Why are you being so… so _like this?_ You're the one who agreed it was a good idea for Crona to get out of the basement," Maka snapped.

Soul wrung his hands in frustration. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean for them to—" Maka cut him off sharply when she spotted Crona.

Her face lit up, masking the irritation and frustration from just moments before. "Hey! Crona, there you are. Come on, let's get you home."

The entire walk back to Maka and Soul's apartment, Crona had sensed the tension between the two of them. They caught Soul's low growls as Maka discussed her excitement on having a new roommate, and the poison filled glances that Maka shot back at him. Crona's stomach plummeted at seeing the two at such odds.

"Hey, are you alright?" Maka asked across the room, pulling Crona back into the present. Panic seized them for a moment, causing their insides to twist into a thousand knots.

"Y-yeah! Coming, sorry," Crona said quickly.

"Our room had better look nicer than the rest of this shit hole," Ragnarok complained.

"That's not very nice," Crona said.

"Shut it and walk, dweeb," Ragnarok snapped back, smacking the side of Crona's head for good measure. Crona gave an annoyed whined and followed Maka further into the apartment.

Maka stood beside a narrow doorway at the end of the hallway, already open and inviting Crona inside into the small, shoebox of a room. It had a bed nestled in the corner and a set of drawers adjacent to it, and a chair that took up almost all the rest of the room. The walls were painted off-white with one lonely poster that had the words "Be Happy" on them, with an illustration of a smiling dog. Crona didn't make any move to enter the room, unsure of how to deal with the new situation.

"Do you like it?" Maka asked hopefully. "I know it's not much, but I figured it's better than being alone in the Academy's basement."

"Alone? What am I, chopped liver?" Ragnarok asked indignantly.

"Ah, except for you, of course," Maka corrected herself, smiling. Ragnarok grumbled and leaned on Crona's head, which was, at that moment, bubbling with more thoughts and emotions than he knew how to handle.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Maka said suddenly. She closed the door, spreading a hand out to present a small sign that had been nailed to the outside, the words "CRONA'S ROOM" painted in pink letters on a blue background.

"What about me?!" Ragnarok protested, hitting Crona repeatedly over the head in frustration.

"Hey! Stop that! It hurts! Don't pull my hair! Why are you doing this?" Crona whined, trying to shield their head from Ragnarok's blows. Maka sighed irritably, then rushed into another room, returning a moment later with a thick black permanent marker. She scribbled on the sign then threw the marker at Ragnarok to get his attention.

"Better?" Maka asked, exasperated, pointing to the sign which now read "CRONA _& Ragnarok's_ ROOM". Ragnarok stopped hitting Crona and crossed his arms.

"Doesn't change the fact _you forgot about me,_ " the Demon Sword grumbled.

"How could I ever forget about you?" Maka seethed, and Crona wondered if their was some hidden meaning behind her words. She took a breath to calm herself down and opened the door again. She extended her arm out, inviting Crona in. Slowly, slowly, they walked inside.

"What do you think? Like I said, I know it's not much, but you can decorate it however you want, maybe get some new bedding. You can feel free to make it your own… or… Crona? Are you alright? Is something wrong? Do you not like it?" Maka began fretting, because Crona's shoulders had started to shake. Tears spilt over onto their cheeks.

"Thank you," Crona said softly. He had never had anything that truly felt like it was _their's_ and _their's alone_ (plus Ragnarok). Crona wished he could tell Maka how much the room meant, how much her actions were appreciated, how much her friendship was valued. "This… this is… more than I could have asked for. Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you…" Crona fell into Maka's embrace, crying onto her shoulder gratefully, repeating himself over and over again. Ragnarok, obviously displeased with the display of emotions, retreated inside Crona. Maka patted the spot where the Demon Sword used to be.

"That's what friends do for each other," Maka said softly.

Down the hall, unbeknownst to either of them, Soul sank back into his room, the softly door clicking shut.

Dinner was strange. Cold looks and remarks were exchanged between Maka and Soul, and Crona felt caught in the cross-fire. The two had always seemed so close, best friends—possibly more even, though Crona had never been sure. But now, their words were as sharp as swords and their glances as poisonous as a deadly viper. Crona tried to figure out what had changed between them to cause this friction.

As Crona lay in bed— _My bed, my bed, my bed,_ they thought over and over again, unable to help the small smile they wore—sounds drifted over from the room beside theirs. Crona sat up and frowned slightly. Voices. Angry voices. Crona's chest tightened at hearing Soul and Maka fighting. Flipping onto their side, Crona pressed their pillow over their ears to muffle their sharp tones and words that couldn't quite be made out. Crona began to feel like maybe they'd done something wrong. Why else would Soul and Maka suddenly be at such odds?

The next few days passed in a similar manner, and Crona wondered if moving in with Soul and Maka had been a mistake. They couldn't handle the anger and tension that passed between Maka and her weapon, then anger that shone through in sharp comments and hissing conversations late at night.

On the fourth night in the small cupboard room— _My room,_ Crona thought, the novelty of the notion still fresh— Soul and Maka's voices drafted over from the next room. Crona took his pillow and pressed it over their head, blocking out the sounds.

"What are you doing?" Ragnarok hissed.

"I don't know how to deal with their fighting," Crona whimpered, earning five small punches from Ragnarok.

"At least get closer to the wall so I can listen," the weapon ordered, tugging on Crona's hair to get him to move.

"Ouch! Quit it! I'm going, okay?" Crona whined, scooting towards the wall adjacent to the next bedroom over, Soul's bedroom. Ragnarok pressed up against it, while Crona kept to hands firmly over their ears.

"You know, if you listen, you'll finally know what's wrong between them," Ragnarok said. Crona shook their head.

"Eavesdropping is wrong," they insisted.

"Oh, come on. Don't be such a baby!"

Ragnarok was right. If they listened, even just for a few moments, they would know once and for all what had driven a wedge between Maka and Soul, and if that something was Crona.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt… just for a second…" Hesitantly, Crona's arms dropped and they pressed an ear against the wall, the once muffled voices becoming clearer.

"…still so upset about this. You're the one who said it couldn't have been good for Crona locked up in the basement on their own," Maka snapped. Crona's heart raced. They _were_ upset with them…

In the next room, it was a face off between weapon and meister. They had quarrelled back and forth about Soul's bitter attitude over the past few days, but tonight, truths were coming to light. Maka had finally hit the source of his frustrations: Crona (or at least, that's what she thought).

Soul wrung his hands in the air. "I never said they should move in with _us!_ Maka, we barely have enough room for the two of us as it is, plus there's Blair, and—"

"This isn't about space and you know it," Maka said sharply, cutting Soul off.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Soul asked angrily.

"If you don't like them, then tell me, because there's no reason not to. Do you not trust them?"

"What? That's ridiculous, I—"

"Are you afraid? You know Crona would never do something to hurt you." Maka's gaze softened for a moment, reaching a hand to touch his chest where a jagged scar cut across underneath his shirt. "Not again."

Soul brushed her hand away, feeling his face grow hot at her nearness. "Maka, he was trying to hurt _you_ , and that's not even related to this. I forgave them along time ago, I just…"

"'Just' what? What is it?" she asked, her voice on the break between anger and desperation.

The front door slammed loudly, causing both of them to jump with surprise before rushing out to of the room to see what the trouble was, Maka turning right to Crona's room and Soul turning left towards the living room.

"Crona's gone," Maka said, joining her weapon. "Do you think they heard?"

"Well, we weren't exactly quiet," Soul mumbled, running a hand down his tired face. "I'll go after them."

"I'm coming too," Maka insisted. He shook his head.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault anyway. Just…" Soul sighed and looked at her, fierce determination dancing in her emerald eyes. God, he loved her, even when she wanted to kill him. "Go to lie down, okay? I know you haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Maka opened her mouth to protest, but Soul silenced her with a playful poke on the forehead. He couldn't stay angry at her, even if she could. Maka fumed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Go to sleep, Maka," he said again. Sighing, she dropped her shoulders, still scowling.

"Find them, okay?"

Soul nodded and walked out of the apartment.

Crona hadn't gotten far before Should caught up to them, having no trouble navigating the dark streets on his bike, the headlight illuminating the otherwise pitch-black alley-way that Crona had ducked into as Soul approached.

"Hey, Crona," he called out, pulling his bike over into the alley and leaving it running to provide some light. He spotted a head of pink hair crouched beside some old crates. "I know you're there."

"I'm so sorry," Crona responded meekly.

"For what? You didn't do anything," Soul said assuringly.

"It's okay, you don't have to pretend to like me. I heard you and Maka talking about me. I'll leave you alone now…" Crona whimpered, his voice sounding watery.

"I _do_ like you, Crona. You're one of us now, no matter what your past is," Soul said firmly. Crona inched out from behind the crates. Soul took a slow step towards them.

"Then… if you don't hate me, why were you and Maka fighting?" Crona asked, sounding tired and afraid.

Soul sighed. "Shit. You heard all that, huh?" he wondered. Crona nodded. "It really isn't about you, Crona."

"Then what is it? If I did something wrong, I'm sorry."

"I just said that you didn't—" Soul stopped himself, seeing the guilt on Crona's face. Merely denying the kid's claims wasn't going to be enough to convince Crona to come back.

"Alright, I'll tell you the truth, but if you ever breathe a word of what I'm about to say to Maka, I'll kick your ass," he growled. Crona nodded vigorously, cringing slightly at the threat.

"I was… I was jealous, okay?" he said finally.

"Jealous? Of… of me?"

Ragnarok materialized in a flash of light, looming over Crona's shoulder. "This just got interesting," he said.

"Yeah," Soul sighed, leaning against the wall and poking the ground with his show. "I, uh, I mean no, not really. Cool guys like me never get jealous," he said, almost ironically, but really wishing it was true. "I was just… annoyed that Maka accepted you so quickly into our house."

"But, I've been over to visit lots of times before," Crona said obliviously.

Soul shook his head. "I mean, she was so eager for you to move in. When Maka and I first started living together, the only reason she agreed to it was because she wanted to get away from her dad. But with you… She let you in to her and my home— _our_ _home_ — without a second thought. It took forever for us to find a balance and I was afraid that… that you were going to screw it up." Saying it out loud, Soul realized how petty and definitely _not_ cool he sounded. "Things really did get fucked up when you moved in, but not because of you. It was my fault. I shouldn't have taken it out on Maka or you. _Especially_ not you." Soul took a breath, swallowed a bit of pride, and finished with a heartfelt "I'm sorry."

"Soul…" a voice breathed behind him. He looked up to see Maka appearing in the alley's entrance. She walked towards him slowly.

"I… shit, Maka, I was just, um…" Soul stammered to find any words that could make him seem like less of an idiot. _Shit, shit, shit, shit_.

Suddenly, his meister's face broke into a smile. "You idiot," she laughed, pushing his shoulder playfully. The hot blush that had developed on his face didn't die down as Maka tried to contain her giggles. "I can't believe you thought that. You really are a big…"

"Don't say it," Soul warned.

"Soft…"

"Maka," he growled, hoping to frighten her with his teeth (not that it had ever worked before).

"B—"

"Hey, meisters shouldn't make fun of their weapons," Crona said suddenly. Maka stopped. Both of them stared at Crona, eyes wide and jaws dropped at the sudden surge of assertiveness from the usually timid Crona. Soul was the first one to form a proper reaction, smirking and throwing an arm over their shoulder.

"You know, I could get used to having you around," he laughed loudly. Maka rolled her eyes at him, but Soul saw her smiling.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go home."

Soul looked at Crona. "Your home too, okay?"

And as Crona lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep, they repeated the same mantra over and over again; _Our home, our home, our home._

* * *

 **Let me know what you thought with this one. If nothing else, it was interesting to write!**


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